G. A. Henty - "No Surrender!"

August von Kotzebue - "The Stranger"

Various - "Scientific American Supplement, No. 417"

George Wharton Edwards - "The Book of Old English Ballads"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Caesar or Nothing

P >> Pio Baroja >> Caesar or Nothing




"Don Platon Peribanez has a silver-shop fitted up in the old style; a
small show-window, full of rattles, Moorish anklets, necklaces, little
crosses, et cetera; a narrow, dark shop, then a long passage, and at the
rear, a workroom with a window on a court.

"As his assistant in the silver-shop, Don Platon has a boy who is a
nonsuch. I believe that if you took him to London and exhibited him,
saying beforehand: 'Bear in mind, gentlemen, that this is not a monkey
or an anthropoid, but a man,' you would rake in a mad amount of pounds
sterling.

"We went into Don Platon's little shop, we asked the young macaco for
him, and we passed on into the workshop.

"Senor Peribanez is a man of medium stature, dressed in black, with a
trimmed white beard, grey eyes, and modest manners. He speaks coldly,
thinks closely of what he is saying; he has a monotonous, slow voice,
and nothing escapes him.

"Don Calixto presented me to him; the silversmith gave me his hand as if
with a certain repugnance, and the boss explained who I was and what I
was after.

"Don Platon said that he could not reply categorically without
consulting with his friends and with Father Martin. The Father has other
candidates; one the Duke of Castro himself; and the other a rich farmer
of the town.

"The Duke of Castro presents no other drawback than that he has been
arrested in Paris for an insignificant swindle he has committed; but
it seems that a rich Cuban wants to get him out of his difficulties on
condition that he will marry his daughter.

"If he comes out of jail and gets married, then they will nominate him
as Deputy from here.

"I said to Don Platon, in case the worthy Duke does not come out of
jail, would he have difficulties over my being his candidate. He replied
that I am very young, and after many circumlocutions he said flatly that
he doesn't know if I would be accepted or not as a candidate by his
followers; but in case I were, the conditions precedent would be: first,
that I would not interfere in any way in the affairs of the district,
which would be ventilated in the town, as previously; secondly, that I
should bear the costs of the election, which would amount approximately
to some ten thousand pesetas.

"Don Calixto looked at me questioningly, and I smiled in a way to make
it understood that I agreed, and after extracting a promise from Don
Platon that he will give us a definite answer this week, we took leave
of him and went to the Casino.

"There I was introduced to the judge, an Andalusian who has a spotless
reputation for veniality, and to the mayor, who is a rich farmer; and
the most important persons of the town being thus gathered at one table,
we chatted about politics, women, and gambling.

"I told them a number of tales; I told them that I once lost ten
thousand dollars at Monte Carlo, playing with two Russian princes and a
Yankee millionairess; I talked to them about the mysteries and crimes of
gambling houses and of those great centres of pleasure, and I left them
speechless. At half-past nine, with a terrible headache, I came back
here. I think I have not lost a day, eh?"

"No! The devil! What speed!" exclaimed Alzugaray.

"But you are not eating any supper. Don't you intend to take anything?"

"No. I am going to see if I can sleep. Listen, day after tomorrow we are
both invited to dine at Don Calixto's."

"Me, too?"

"Yes; I told them that you are a rich tourist, and they want to know
you."

"And what am I to do there?"

"You can study these people, as an entomologist studies insects. Listen,
it wouldn't do any harm if you took a walk to that town near here, named
Cidones, to see if you can find out what sort of bird this Father Martin
is."

"All right."

"And if you don't mind, go into that Republican bookseller's shop, under
any pretext, and talk to him."

"I will do so."

"Then, till tomorrow!"

"You are going now?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight, then."

Caesar left his room and marched off to sleep.




IV

THE BOOKSELLER AND THE ANARCHISTS


The following day, very early in the morning, Alzugaray went to a
livery-stable which they had directed him to at the hotel, and asked to
hire a horse. They brought him a large, old one; he mounted, and crossed
the town more slowly than if he had been on foot, and set out for
Cidones.

On reaching that town, he left the horse at a blacksmith's and went up
through the narrow lanes of Cidones, which are horribly long, dark, and
steep.

Then he ascended to la Pena, the rock on which the Franciscan monastery
stands; but was unable to obtain any fresh information about Father
Martin and his friars. The people with whom he talked were not disposed
to unbosom themselves, and he preferred not to insist, so as not to be
suspected.

Afterwards he went down to Cidones again and returned to Castro Duro.
Caesar was still in bed. Alzugaray went into his room.

"Don't you intend to get up?" he asked him.

"No."

"Don't you intend to eat, either?"

"Neither."

"Are you sick?"

"No."

"What is the matter with you? Laziness?"

"Something like that."

Alzugaray ate alone, and after he had had coffee, he directed his steps
to the bookstore of the Republican councilman, of whom Caesar had spoken
to him. He found it in a corner of the Square; and it was at the same
time a stationer's shop and a newsdealer's. Behind the counter were an
old man and a lad.

Alzugaray went in. He bought various Madrid periodicals from the lad,
and then addressing the old man, asked him:

"Haven't you some sort of a map of the province, or of the neighbourhood
of Castro Duro?"

"No, sir, there isn't one."

"Nor a guidebook, perhaps?"

"Nor that either. At the townhall we have a map of the town...."

"Only of the part built up?"

"Yes."

"Then it would do me no good."

"You want a map for making excursions, eh?"

"That's it. Yes."

"Well, there is none. We are very much behind the times."

"Yes, that's true. It wouldn't cost very much, and it would be useful
for ever, both to the people here and to strangers."

"Just tell that to our town government!" exclaimed the old bookseller.
"Whatever is not for the advantage of the rich and the clerical element,
there is no hope of."

"Those gentlemen have a great deal of influence here?" asked Alzugaray.

"Uf! Enormous. More every day."

"But there don't appear to be many convents."

"No, there are not many convents; but there is one that counts for a
hundred, and that is the one at Cidones."

"Why is that?"

"Because it has a wild beast for a prior. Father Martin Lafuerza. He is
famous all through this region. And he is a man of talent, there's no
denying it, but despotic and exigent. He is into everything, catechizes
the women, dominates the men. There is no way to fight against him. Here
am I with this bookshop, and I have my pension as a lieutenant, which
gives me enough to live very meanly, and with what little I get out of
the periodicals I scrape along. Besides, I am a Republican and very
liberal, and I like propaganda. If I didn't, I should have left all this
long ago, because they have waged war to the death on me, an infamous
sort of war which a person that lives in Madrid cannot understand;
calumnies that come from no one knows where, atrocious accusations,
everything...."

Alzugaray stared at the bookseller's grey eyes, which were
extraordinarily bright. The old man was tall, stooped, grizzled, with a
prominent nose and a beard trimmed to a point.

"But you have stuck firmly to your post," said Alzugaray.

"Having been a soldier must do something for a man," replied the
bookseller. "He learns not to draw back in the face of danger. And this
is my life. Now I am a councillor and I work at the town hall as much as
I can, even though I know I shall accomplish nothing. Grafting goes on
before my face, I know it exists, and yet it is impossible to find it.
Six months ago I informed the judge of irregularities committed in a
Sisters' Asylum, things I had proof of.... The judge laid my information
on the table, and things went on as if nothing had happened."

"Spain is in a bad way. It is a pity!" exclaimed Alzugaray.

"You people in Madrid, and I don't say this to irritate you, do not
understand what goes on in the small towns."

"My dear man, I have never taken any part in political affairs."

"Well, I think that everybody ought to take part in politics, because it
is for the general interest."

At this moment two persons entered the bookshop. Alzugaray was going to
leave, but the bookseller said to him:

"If you have nothing to do, sit down for a while."

Alzugaray sat down and examined the new arrivals. One of them was a
skinny man, with bushy hair and whiskers; the other was a smooth-shaven
party, short, cross-eyed, dressed in copper-coloured cloth edged with
broad black braid.

"_The Rebel_ hasn't come?" asked the whiskered one.

"No," replied the bookseller. "It didn't come out this week."

"They must have reported it," said the whiskered one. "Yes, probably."

"Has the doctor been in?" the shaven, little man with the black braid
asked in his turn.

"No."

"All right. Let's go see if we can find him in the club. Salutations!"

"Good-bye."

"Who are those rascals?" asked Alzugaray, when they had gone out.

"They are two anarchists that we have here, who accuse me of being a
bourgeois ... ha ... ha.... The shaven one is the son of the landlady of
an inn who is called Furibis, and they call him that too. He used to be
a Federalist. They call the other one 'Whiskers,' and he came here from
Linares, not long ago."

"What do they do?"

"Nothing. They sit in the club chatting, and nowadays the doctor we have
here runs with them, Dr. Ortigosa, who is half mad. He will be in soon.
Then you will see a type. He is a very bad-tempered man, and is always
looking for an excuse to quarrel. But above all, he is an enemy of
religion. He never says Good-bye, but Salutations or Farewell. In
the same way, he doesn't say Holy Week, but Clerical Week. His great
pleasure is to find a temperament of a fibre like his own; then his eyes
flash and he begins to swear. And if he is hit, he stands for it."

"He is an anarchist, too?"

"How do I know? He doesn't know himself. Formerly, for four or five
months, he got out a weekly paper named _The Protest_, and sometimes
he wrote about the canalization of the river, and again about the
inhabitants of Mars."

The bookseller and Alzugaray chatted about many other things, and after
some while the bookseller said:

"Here is Dr. Ortigosa. He is coming in."

The door opened and a slim individual appeared, worn and sickly, with a
black beard and spectacles. His necktie was crooked, his suit dirty, and
he had his hat in his hand. He stared impertinently at Alzugaray, cast
a glance at a newspaper, and set to shouting and talking ill of
everything.

"This is a town full of dumb beasts," he said from time to time, with
the energy of exasperation.

Then, supposing Alzugaray to come from Madrid, he started to speak ill
of the Madrilenos.

"They are a collection of fools," he said roundly, various times.
"They know nothing, they understand nothing, and still they talk
authoritatively about everything."

Alzugaray put up with the downpour as if it had no reference to him,
looking over a newspaper; and when the doctor was in the thick of his
discourse, Alzugaray got up, shook hands with the bookseller, thanked
him, and left the shop.

The doctor looked at him over his glasses with fury, and began to walk
up and down in the bookstore.

Alzugaray went to the hotel, arranging in his memory the data collected.

Caesar was feeling well, and the two of them talked of the bookseller
and his friends and of Father Martin Lafuerza.

"I am going to jot down all these points," said Caesar. "It wouldn't be
a bad idea for you to go on cultivating the bookseller."

"I am going to."

"Tomorrow, you know," said Caesar. "Grand dinner at Don Calixto's. The
practical manoeuvres begin."

"Very good."




V

THE BANQUET

THE GUESTS


The table had been set in that wonderful gallery of the ancient palace
of the Dukes of Castro Duro, which looked out over the garden. The early
autumn weather was of enchanting softness and sweetness.

Caesar and Alzugaray were very smart and elegant, with creases in their
trousers: Caesar dressed in black, with the ceremonious aspect
that suits a grave man; Alzugaray in a light suit with a coloured
handkerchief in his breast pocket.

"I think we are 'gentlemen' today," said Caesar.

"It seems so to me."

They entered the house and were ushered into the drawing-room. The
majority of the guests were already there; the proper introductions
and bows took place. Caesar stayed in the group of men, who remained
standing, and Alzugaray went over to enter the sphere of Don Calixto's
wife and the judge's wife.

The judge, from the first moment, treated Caesar like a man of
importance, and began to call him Don Caesar every moment, and to find
everything he said, good.

In the ladies' group there was an old priest, a tall, big, deaf man, a
great friend of the family, named Don Ramon.

The judge's wife told Alzugaray that this Don Ramon was a simpleton.

He was the pastor of a very rich hermitage nearby, the hermitage of la
Vega, and he had spent all the money he had got by an inheritance, in
fixing up the church.

The poor man was childlike and sweet. He said various times that he had
many cloaks for the Virgin in the sacristy of his church, and that he
wished they could be given to poor parishes, because two or three were
enough in his.


AMPARITO


While they were talking an automobile horn was heard, and a little later
Don Calixto's niece entered the drawing-room.

This was Amparito, the flat-faced girl with black eyes, of whom Caesar
had spoken to Alzugaray. Her father accompanied her.

The priest patted the girl's cheeks.

Her father was a clumsy man, red, sunburned, with the face of a
contractor or a miner.

The girl took off her cap and the veil she wore in the automobile, and
seated herself between Don Calixto's daughters. Alzugaray looked her
over. Amparito really was attractive; she had a short nose, bright black
eyes, red lips too thick, white teeth, and smooth cheeks. She wore her
hair down, in ringlets; but in spite of her infantile get-up, one saw
that she was already a woman.

"Caesar is right; this is quite a lively girl," murmured Alzugaray.

The mayor's son now arrived, and his sister. He was an insignificant
little gentleman, mild and courteous; he had studied law at Salamanca,
and it seemed that he had certain intentions about Don Calixto's second
daughter.

All the guests being assembled, the master of the house said that, since
nobody was missing and it was time, they might pass into the gallery,
where the table was set.

At one end the lady of the house seated herself, having the priest on
one side and the judge on the other; at the other end, Don Calixto,
between the judge's wife and the mayor's daughter. Caesar had a seat
assigned between Don Calixto's elder daughter and Amparito, and
Alzugaray one between the second daughter and the judge's girl.

A few moments before they sat down, Amparito went running out of
the gallery into the garden. "Where has that child gone?" asked Don
Calixto's wife.

"Something or other has occurred to her," said Amparito's father,
laughing.

The girl reappeared a little later with a number of yellow and red
chrysanthemums in her hand.

She gave red ones to the mayor's daughter and to her cousins, who were
all three brunettes, and a yellow one to the judge's daughter, who was
blond. Then she proceeded to the men.

"This one is for you," to the mayor's son; "this one for you," and she
gave Alzugaray a yellow one; "this one for you," and she gave Caesar
a red one; "and this one for me," and she put a similar flower in her
bosom.

"And the rest of us?" asked Don Calixto.

"I don't give you chrysanthemums, because your wives would be jealous,"
replied Amparito.

"Man, man!" exclaimed the judge; "how does it strike you, Don Calixto?
That these little girls know the human heart pretty well?"

"These children do not know how to appreciate our merits," said Don
Calixto.

"Oh, yes; your merits are for your wives," replied Amparito.

"I must inform you that my friend Caesar is married, too," said
Alzugaray, laughing.

"Pshaw!" she exclaimed, smiling and showing her white, strong teeth. "He
hasn't the face of a married man."

"Yes, he has got the face of a married man. Look at him hard."

"Very well; as his wife isn't here, she won't quarrel with me."

Alzugaray examined this girl. She had great vivacity; any idea that
occurred to her was reflected in her face in a manner so lively and
charming, that she was an interesting spectacle to watch.

At first the conversation was of a languid and weary character; Don
Calixto, the judge, and Caesar started in to exchange political
reflexions of crass vulgarity. Caesar was gallantly attentive to the
wants of Don Calixto's elder daughter, and less gallantly so to his
other neighbour Amparito; the mayor's son, despite the fact that his
official mission was to court one of Don Calixto's girls, looked more at
Amparito than at his intended, and Alzugaray listened smilingly to the
young person's sallies.

Toward the middle of the meal the conversation grew brisker; the judge
recounted, with much art, a mysterious crime that had occurred in a town
in Andalusia among farming people, and he succeeded in keeping them all
hanging to his lips.

At the end of the recital, the conversation became general; the younger
element talked together, and Caesar made comments about what the judge
had told them, and defended the most immoral and absurd conclusions, as
though they were Conservative ideas.

Caesar's observations were discussed by the men, and the judge and Don
Calixto agreed that Caesar was a man of real talent, who would play a
great role in Congress.

"Please give me a little wine," said Amparito, holding her glass to
Alzugaray; "your friend pays no attention to me; I have asked him for
some wine twice, and nothing doing."

Caesar acted as if he hadn't heard and kept on talking;

Amparito took the glass, wet her lips in it, and looked at Alzugaray
maliciously.

After eating and having coffee, as the two married ladies and the girls
were inert from so long a meal, they arose, and Alzugaray, the mayor's
son, and Amparito's father followed them. Don Calixto, the judge, and
Caesar remained at table. The priest had gone to sleep.

A bottle of chartreuse was brought, and they started in drinking and
smoking.

Caesar's throat grew dry and he became nauseated from drinking, smoking,
and talking.

At five the judge took his leave, because he had to glance in at court;
Don Calixto wanted to take his nap, and after he had escorted Caesar to
the garden, he went away. The two married ladies were alone, because
the young people had gone with Amparito's father on an excursion to the
Devil's Threshold, a defile where the river flows between some red
precipitous rocks full of clefts.

Caesar joined the two ladies, and kept up a monotonous, dreary
conversation about the ways of the great city.

At twilight all the excursionists came back from their jaunt. One of the
young ladies played something very noisy on the piano, and the judge's
daughter was besought to recite one of Campoamor's poems.

"It is a very pretty thing," said the judge's wife, "a girl who laments
because her lover abandons her."

"Given the customs of Spain, as they are, the girl would be in a house
of prostitution," said Caesar in a low tone, ironically.

"Shut up," replied Alzugaray.

The girl recited the poem, and Caesar asked Alzugaray sarcastically if
those verses were by the girl's father, because they sounded to him like
the verses of a notary or a judge of the Court of First Instance.

Then somebody suggested that they should have supper there.

Caesar noticed that this plan did not appeal to the mistress of the
house, and he said:

"One should be moderate in all things. I am going home to bed."

After this somewhat pedantic phrase, which to Don Calixto seemed a
pearl, Caesar took leave of his new acquaintances with a great deal of
ceremony and coolness. Alzugaray said he would remain a while longer.

When Caesar was bowing to Amparito, she asked him jokingly:

"Is it your wife that keeps you in such good habits?"

"My wife!" exclaimed Caesar, surprised.

"Didn't your friend say..."

"Ah! Yes, it is she who makes me have such good habits."

This said, he left the drawing-room and went quickly down the stairs.
The cool night air made him shiver, and he went with a heavy, aching
head to his hotel, and got to bed. He slept very profoundly, but not
for more than an hour, and woke up sweaty and thirsty. His headache was
gone. It was not yet past eleven. He lighted the light, and sitting
up in bed, set to thinking over the probabilities of success in his
undertaking.

Meanwhile he stared at the red chrysanthemum which was in the
button-hole of his coat, and remembered Amparito.

"That child is a prodigy of coquetry and bad bringing-up," he thought
with vexation; "these emancipated small town young ladies are more
unattractive than any others. I prefer Don Calixto's daughter, who at
least is naively and unobjectionably stupid. But this other one is
unsupportable."

Without knowing why, he felt more antipathy for the girl than was
natural under the circumstances. He did not like to admit it to himself;
but he felt the hostility which is produced in strong, self-willed
characters by the presence of another person with a strong character
proposing to exert itself.


THE TWO FRIENDS' COMMENTS


Caesar was thinking over the details of the visit, when Alzugaray came
home, and seeing a light in Caesar's room, went in there. Alzugaray was
quite lively. The two friends passed the persons met that day in ironic
review, and in general they were agreed about everything, except about
valuing Amparito's character.

Caesar found her distasteful, pert and impertinent; to his friend, on
the contrary, she had seemed very attractive, very amiable and very
clever.

"To me," said Caesar, "she appears one of these small town lasses who
have a flirtation with a student, then with a captain, and finally
marry some rich brute, and get fat, and turn into old sows, and grow
moustaches."

"In that I think you are fundamentally unjust," said Alzugaray.
"Amparito is not a small town lass, for she lives in Madrid almost all
year. Besides, that makes no difference; what I have not observed is her
committing any folly or impertinence." "Dear man, it all depends on
how you look at it. To me her conduct seemed bad, to you it seems all
right."

"You are an extremist, for I can assure you that you were actually rude
to her."

"Actually rude, I don't think; but I admit that I was cool and not very
amiable."

"And why were you?"

"First, because it is politic of me, since Don Calixto's family do not
care for Amparito; and secondly, because the little creature didn't
please me, either."

"And why didn't she please you? For no reason at all?"

"I am not partial to the platyrrhine races."

"What nonsense! And you wish to look at things clearly! A man that
judges people by their noses!"

"It seems to you little to go on? A brunette girl, brachicephalic and
rather platyrrhine.... There is no more to say."

"And if she had been blond, dolichocephalic, and long-nosed, she would
have seemed all right to you."

"Her ethnic type would have seemed all right."

"Let's not discuss it. What's the use? But I feel that you are arbitrary
to an extreme."

"If she knew of our discussion, the young thing couldn't complain,
because if she has had a systematic detractor in me, she has found an
enthusiastic defender in you."

"Yes, dear man; it is only at such long intervals that I see a person
with ingenuousness and enthusiasm, that when I do meet one, I get a real
joy from it."

"You are a sentimentalist."

"That's true; and you have become an inquisitor."

"Most certainly. I believe we agree on that and on all the rest."

"I think so. All right. Good-bye!" said Alzugaray, ill-humouredly.

"Salutations!" replied Caesar.




VI

UNCLE CHINAMAN

CIDONES


Caesar impatiently awaited Senor Peribanez's reply, so that he might
return to Madrid. He was fed up with Don Calixto's conversation and his
wife's, and with the familiarity they had established with him.

Alzugaray, on the other hand, was entertained and content. Amparito's
father showed a great liking for him and took him everywhere in his
automobile.

Caesar, in order to satisfy his requirements for isolation, had begun to
get up very early and take walks on the highway. He almost always walked
too far, and was done up for the whole day, and at first he slept badly
at night.

He wanted to see, one by one, the parts of his future realm, the scene
where his initiative was to bear seed and his plans to be realized.

A lot of ideas occurred to him: to build a bridge here, to take
advantage there of the fall of the river and establish a big electric
plant for industrial purposes. He would have liked to change everything
he saw, in an instant.

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